


We Can Light a Match and Burn It Down

by annabethwrites



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Avengers Tower, Brainwashing, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Language, Memory Loss, Past Brainwashing, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-22 14:28:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2511011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabethwrites/pseuds/annabethwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha liked to think that nothing really surprised her anymore. It wasn’t hubris, just a side effect of her exposure to a god from Norse myths, a super-soldier from the forties, and Bruce Banner. The things that she’d seen just made it hard for life to throw any curveballs at her. Of course, like all old adages, ‘never say never’ just had to come back and bite her in the ass in the form of James Buchanan Barnes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my (probably pathetic) first attempt to write in the Marvel universe. I'm pretty scared about it, to be honest. I haven't decided whether to continue it or not so it all depends on reactions. If anyone decides to take pity on me, I would love to have help in writing this, whether it's as a beta or just a fact-checker. I've never read the comics but I've tried to research character backgrounds as much as I could, especially on Bucky and Nat. I just hope that it's not too terrible.
> 
> The title of the fic is from the song Dust to Dust by the Civil Wars

Natasha liked to think that nothing really surprised her anymore. It wasn’t hubris, just a side effect of her exposure to a god from Norse myths, a super-soldier from the forties, and Bruce Banner. The things that she’d seen just made it hard for life to throw any curveballs at her. Of course, like all old adages, ‘never say never’ just had to come back and bite her in the ass in the form of James Buchanan Barnes.

* * *

After what happened at Triskelion, getting through the next six months was like wading upstream through the Grand Rapids with rocks strapped to her body. Natasha was certain that she wasn’t the only one who felt that way. Exhaustion was not a rare state of being at the makeshift new headquarters of SHIELD. Even Maria Hill, who had been given the title of director when Fury left, could not deny that rebuilding the agency from almost nothing was rather difficult. Natasha’s goal to build up new identities for herself was pushed to the side when she was called in to handle some of the backlash of what happened with Pierce.

Six months after HYDRA was exposed to the world, Natasha felt like she hadn’t seen the outside of HQ in ages. With her covers blown, the U.S. government weren’t the only ones who were notified her of existence. Enemies were calling for her head all over the word, especially in Russia, and SHIELD was monitoring all of them while they kept her in lockdown. They didn’t just keep her in locked rooms. She was given the task of finding any HYDRA operatives that managed to escape from Triskelion. It wasn’t enough for her and eventually, her frustration at being locked away boiled over.

“I need a break,” Natasha announced as soon as she stepped into director’s office.

Hill didn’t even blink, sorting through a stack of files on her desk.

“You are important to the rebuild. We can’t lose your expertise,” the other woman replied without looking up.

To her credit, Natasha managed to refrain from pointing out that most of SHIELD’s prisoners had more freedom than she did.

“My expertise is in the field, not staring at four walls of an agency office,” she argued.

“Director Fury decided that…”

“Nick is in Europe doing work that actually helps. I will not be able to locate and monitor HYDRA threats effectively when you have me sitting behind a computer. If you want me to help, this is how I do it,” Natasha cut her off.

Maria finally looked up, sighing heavily.

“You can’t go off the map. You are too valuable.”

“Four months at the most. I promise you, I will come back and do more work in one week than I’ve done in the last six months,” Natasha vowed.

Hill lifted an eyebrow, looking almost skeptical. Natasha didn’t know whether to be offended or not, keeping her face void of all emotion while she waited for the new director’s decision.

“One week?” Maria asked.

She considered it before shrugging once.

“Maybe two.”

The other woman sighed, looking as though she would really rather not grant Natasha’s request. But they both knew that she had no choice. Right now, with Barton in deep cover somewhere in the Middle East, she was the best agent that they had. They couldn’t afford to lose her when she decided that she was going to take this trip whether it was authorized or not.

“Four months and you will check in periodically on secure lines,” Hill said.

Natasha wasn’t a fool. She knew that there would be stipulations.

“I’ll check in when I can,” she compromised.

Maria seemed to accept that, sitting back in her chair.

“I’ll let the armory and tech know that you’ll be stopping by. There’s a jet going to Prague in three hours if you want a ride,” she offered.

Natasha shook her head, smiling slightly.

“I’ll make my own way,” she refused even though she appreciated the offer.

Maria Hill might not have been her biggest fan, and vice versa, but they had a mutual understanding. They were on the same side and they could put up with each other, and maybe even protect each other, for the sake of peace. Besides, they were two of the only people that Nick Fury trusted in the world and that unavoidably brought them together more than anything. Natasha turned, walking out with a sense of wary anticipation alongside her triumph. She wasn’t going to let her guard down. There was no doubt in her mind that this would not be a simple, quiet trip. Her luck had never been that good. Why would that change now?

* * *

“Flight 4243 to Dar es Salaam now boarding all passengers.”

Natasha took a deep breath, heading towards the gate with her boarding pass in one hand and her passport in the other. She still wasn’t used to her dark brown hair, almost startling at the sight of it in her passport picture before she handed it over to the gate attendant. Getting on the plane was a breeze and soon she was sitting by a window looking out at the tarmac with her lower lip caught between her teeth. For some reason, her mind began drifting back to that day in the cemetery. Rogers had a determined look on his face and Wilson was no doubt going to follow him wherever he decided to go.

_“You might not want to pull on that thread.”_

It had been a warning but what they didn’t hear was the almost plea beneath it. Natasha hadn’t given him everything in the file but he had enough he probably knew by now. He was only one of a few people in the world who did. SHIELD might have had an entire file on her but there were some things that even Clint didn’t know about her time at Department X. She’d been foolish enough to hope that it would stay that way. Now that Captain America was on the trail, it was only a matter of time before she had to pull those memories out of the compartment where she’d banished them so many years ago.

Natasha tried to push those thoughts away, hardly eager to experience the flashbacks that plagued her every time she paid that place any attention. As the plane prepared to take off, pulling out onto the runway slowly, she could not help but give into the pull of exhaustion, closing her eyes and laying her head against the window. Just before sleep overtook her, a pair of haunted blue eyes flashed through her mind and she felt the ghost of a metal hand closing around her wrist. She let out a small gasp, sitting up straight as she reached for the gun that was not strapped to her thigh. The man sitting next to her jerked out of surprise at her sudden movement, looking over at her with wide eyes.

She muttered an apology, looking out of the window as they took off into the air. Dull pain throbbed in her shoulder, though it was healed by now. Natasha squeezed her eyes shut, unable to keep him out of her mind. The image of his gun pointed straight at her with no recognition in his eyes was burned into her vision. It was not always that way. There was only one person who called her by her name before she earned it. Only one man never doubted that she would survive the program and taught her every step of the way. He was known as the Winter Soldier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to hear what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Sam come to Natasha for help. They lead someone straight to her safe house who decides not to confront her until they leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the positive response to this so far. I am so grateful. Please, if you can, leave a comment. I would love any constructive reviews that you have. It helps me to both write this fic and to become a better writer.
> 
> Any Russian used is in bold. Any thoughts/memories/flashbacks are in italic. That goes for the rest of the fic as well.

It wasn’t exactly a hardship, taking a break to relax only twenty minutes away from a beautiful beach. Zanzibar was close enough to the mainland that she knew that extraction was possible if necessary but far enough away that no one had a chance of recognizing her. There were a few villages near to the safe house filled with people who didn’t even know that SHIELD existed, much less that one of its top agents lived so close to them. All in all, it was worth it to come here. Her days were not just filled with laying out on soft white sand, though Natasha’s skin hadn’t been this golden brown in ages. Most of her time was spent in front of her laptop working with contacts all over the world to ensure that she had passports and visas in several places under different, new names.

When she wasn’t working on her covers, she was researching HYDRA and its projects over the past seventy years. It wasn’t easy, even with all of the information that she released to the public. Three weeks into her stay in Tanzania, Natasha finally managed to find the file on HYDRA’s most valuable asset. Everything could have been laid out before her, information on his missions, his programming. It would contain even more information than the one that she got from her contact in Kiev. She could have even found something that could help Steve and Sam in their search. But something kept her from opening it.

Natasha had no doubt that she would find herself mentioned somewhere in that file and, just as she warned Steve, she didn’t want to pull on that thread unnecessarily. With perfect timing, the shrill sound of her phone filled the air. Natasha knew that very few people had this number but she still answered warily, unsure of who would be calling her.

“Romanoff,” she said briskly.

“Nat,” Steve sighed on the other end, sounding as though he hadn’t slept in days.

From what she knew about him, Natasha wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case.

“What’s going on?” she asked, her heart quickening in her chest. “Did you find him?”

“No, nothing like that,” he answered, though she could hear that something was clearly bothering him.

She didn’t speak again, waiting for him to elaborate on why he called her.

“I need to talk to you. It’s about Department X.”

Her breath caught in her throat, her hand squeezing the phone tightly. Natasha knew that it was coming but she still couldn’t restrain the slight panic that nudged at the edge of her mind at the mention of that place.

“Not now,” she said, keeping her voice cool and detached as she gave him her location.

As soon as Steve disconnected the call after brief goodbyes, she sat back in her chair with a heavy sigh. Her eyes squeezed shut as flashes of separate images crossed her mind.

_“ **You are tired today little one.** ”_

His voice sent shivers down her spine, even though it was only an echo, a memory of who he once was.

_“ **I don’t need to be coddled. I’m fine,** ” her younger self replied stubbornly, spitting out her words in Russian._

_Her jaw was set and her hands curled into fists as she looked up into the slightly amused face of her trainer._

_“Who said anything about coddling?” he asked, lashing out at her._

_Her frustration grew as his attacks grew more focused, hitting the weaknesses that he knew she had. They were trying to teach her to use her smaller stature to her advantage but it was hard when her opponent had twice her muscle mass. A triumphant smile formed on her face when she managed to knock him backwards with a knee to his abdomen before she twirled around and delivered a kick to his chest. He staggered more but caught her ankle in his left hand pulling her with him. Natasha stumbled forward, almost knocking them both to the ground. He regained his balance and stared down at her._

_“ **I could have snapped your leg in half.** ”_

_“ **I’ll be quicker next time,** ” she said simply._

_“ **Be quicker now,** ” he said, pushing her backwards._

_It was almost a gentle shove, contrary to the fist that he sent flying at her head soon after. She ducked it with ease, sending her leg sweeping towards his ankles. He leapt over it, almost bringing his foot down on her ankle. She rolled out of the way, planting both of her feet on his chest as he bent over her to attack her. Using every ounce of strength that she could muster, she shoved him away before flipping up to stand again. Her hands formed fists and she held them up defensively, ready for anything._

_“ **Good,** ” he said approvingly before launching an attack at her again._

Natasha inhaled sharply, standing up as she closed her laptop. She grabbed a towel and her sunglasses, marching out of the door with purpose in her steps. The white, sandy beach was waiting.

\----------

“Were you followed?” she asked as soon as the two men walked through the door.

Steve didn’t look surprised at the abrupt question but Sam simply lifted his eyebrows, wondering if that was always how she greeted visitors.

“No,” Steve said.

It wasn’t that Natasha didn’t trust them but she was far more paranoid, sweeping her eyes over the front part of the house before closing the door and activating the security system. When she turned around, they were both standing there expectantly. She sighed, recognizing the tired look in their eyes from her own reflection. These past few months hadn’t been easy for any of them. Natasha leaned forward, pressing kisses to both of their cheeks.

“It’s good to see you,” she said.

The words were truthful, though she was less pleased about the reason behind their visit. Leading them into the kitchen, she offered tea or coffee as they took a seat at the small breakfast table.

“I called SHIELD first. Hill didn’t sound too happy when she told me that you left,” Steve said.

“I’m not retiring. It’s just a break,” Natasha said with a sigh.

“Building covers?”

She nodded, walking over with two cups of coffee that she set in front of them before retrieving her own cup as well as the the sugar and milk.

“This is the best coffee you’ll ever taste,” she said, trying to avoid the subject that they came to talk about. “These Tanzanians can do a lot of things right and one of those is coffee beans.”

They all prepared their cups in silence. Hers was sweeter than either of theirs, a light brown with a dabbling of cinnamon in the hot liquid.

“This is amazing,” Sam said, agreeing with her on the coffee.

Steve simply nodded, finally looking over at Natasha with a wary look.

“If I’d known he was your friend, I would have told you.”

His jaw twitched at her words.

“How much did you know about him?” Steve asked, purposefully keeping his voice calm.

Natasha sighed, silently struggling between telling him the full truth and telling a few lies that would minimize the damage done by this conversation, both to her own mind and to Steve’s trust in her.

“Not much. He was a ghost to us at first. Then they brought him in as a combat and weapons trainer,” she said, looking down at the table.

Her fingernail traced one of the crevices as her tongue slipped out and wet her lips.

“I thought that Black Widow was a cool code name,” Sam said, clearly trying to break the tension.

Natasha shook her head, lifting it to glance between them.

“It’s a title that’s earned. Every other girl at the training center could have been what I am. The Winter Soldier was one of many teachers that molded us, only he taught the best ones.”

“I’m assuming that you were one of the best,” Steve said, his blue eyes staring deeply into hers.

She simply shrugged, letting them come to their own conclusions.

“They messed with our minds, made us believe things that weren’t true and forget things that were. Then the serum that they gave us changed things as well. I couldn’t tell the difference for the longest time. Sometimes I still can’t. Whatever memories I have are unreliable. They won’t help you,” Natasha said, trying to lead them away from the subject of her past.

“You don’t know that,” Steve said, too smart to fall for the bait.

He leaned forward with a determined look, making a wave of annoyance go through her.

“I hope that you find your friend, Rogers, I really do. But I can’t help you do it,” she said, feeling bad when a flash of hurt went through his eyes.

“Why not?” he questioned.

Natasha stood up, walking into the kitchen to dump her empty coffee cup into the sink. She braced herself on the counter with both hands, taking a deep breath before turning back to look at him.

“I’m not going to dig through a past of painful memories to help you find a man who may or may not remember you. If there is one thing that I can tell you about the Winter Soldier, it’s that he will not be found until he wants to be.”

“He’s not that man anymore,” Steve said, standing up to challenge her words.

Natasha didn’t argue with that. He was right, the Captain in front of her would have been dead if something didn’t happen to Barnes.

“He’s not Bucky either,” she said plainly.

Steve couldn’t bring himself to deny her words either.

“Do you know anything about where he might be?” Sam asked, standing as well.

She looked at him for a moment before her eyes returned to Steve.

“As far off the grid as he can get. He’s got no one telling him what to do for the first time in seventy years. He won’t be letting himself be seen on the street. You’re going to have to look deep underground if you want to find him.”

“I don’t even know where to start with that,” Steve admitted, looking like he’d already lost.

Natasha knew that he wouldn’t go anywhere without at least some information. She reached into the kitchen drawer beside her, already prepared for this.

“This is a list of safe houses in Russia,” she said, handing over the paper. “I have no idea if they’re even still standing but he might be hiding out at one.”

Steve looked relieved, almost like he might give her a hug despite the shared annoyance that they had with each other at the moment.

“Thank you,” he breathed, folding the paper up to put in his pocket.

“You can stay the night. I have an extra bed and a pullout couch,” she offered.

This time Sam joined in on the relief, deciding to go ahead and give Natasha a hug.

* * *

The next day, after walking with the two men down to the village and around to the beach, they returned back to the house so that they could take off. The entire time, she had the unsettling feeling that someone else was there. Steve did not miss it, probably having the same sense.

“Do you want us to stick around?” he asked.

She refused, already planning on leaving the safe house early the next morning. This was no longer a secure location. Unfortunately, once the others left, the person watching her decided to make his move. It was nearing late evening when the alarm lit up on her phone to inform her of the intruder. Slipping off of the sofa slowly, she picked up the handgun where it was lying on a stack of magazines and pulled the knife from beneath her dress where it was strapped to her thigh. She tossed her head back, flicking a stray lock of hair out of her face as she approached the front entry way silently. Her eyes darted around as she searched for whoever it was in the shadows of the house.

At the sight of him standing in the exact middle of the kitchen, the gasp slipped from her mouth before she could help it. Large and imposing, his metal arm glinting in the fading sunset that filtered through the light curtains on the windows, his head slowly turned and she saw his eyes glimmering from behind a few strands of his dark hair. His flesh and blood hand slowly lifted in her direction as he stepped towards her, sending her body straight into survival mode. Before she could even pull the trigger on the gun, it was knocked out of her hand. He was as fast as she remembered. But Natasha was a good student and he taught her to be just as fast.

She slashed at him with the knife, barely missing his palm as he leapt to the side. His arm blocked her next hit and he ducked the dagger when she aimed it at his throat. Natasha lashed out with punches and kicks, trying to find a weakness. It didn’t take her long to figure out that he was absorbing and deflecting each hit with ease but never launching at her in return. He was only trying to defend himself, completely opposite of the Winter Soldier that fought with Steve on that bridge. The thought almost angered her, making her movements more frenzied and less controlled. It was no surprise when he managed to wrestle the knife away. She only hesitated when he threw it away from them, her eyes following it as it skidded across the floor.

Natasha wasn’t stupid. She could calculate her chances down to the thousandth decimal point in hand-to-hand combat with him. They weren’t promising. The best option stood out clearly in her mind. Run. She turned to do just that, thinking of the shotgun that she had hidden beneath the coffee table in the living room. An arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back against him as she let out a shout of both surprise and fury. Kicking and hitting random spots wasn’t getting her anywhere as he dragged her back into the kitchen. One well placed jab with her sharp elbow and his grip on her weakened as he grunted.

She darted away again, this time making it into the living room. Just as she leapt over the couch and went to grab the gun, she heard him following her. Natasha seized the grip and turned, pointing it at him. In the brighter light of this room, she could see him much more clearly. He was still wearing the same uniform, though there were a few tears in the fabric of his pants and one of the straps on the vest was ripped away completely. Her eyes flickered over his form and zeroed in on the hand that was clutching at the wide doorway of the living room.

Now that she could see him better, the sweat glistening on his skin and the labored breaths coming from his mouth caught her notice. She straightened up slowly, her heart thundering in her chest as she stared him down. His pupils were clearly dilated, visible from where she was standing several feet away. He opened his mouth as if to speak before licking his lips and closing it again. She could have shot him several times by now but something stopped her. There was something about the way he looked that seemed so familiar and Natasha couldn’t bring herself to pull the trigger.

She didn’t speak, swallowing hard as she stepped back. Her eyes flickered away from him for only seconds at a time, looking out of the windows to see if he brought any friends. Not that they would be showing themselves. Part of her wondered how he’d found her but she still found that she couldn’t bring herself to say anything. Finally his mouth opened again and this time he managed to speak, his voice hoarse with disuse.

“ **Natalia,** ” he said, staggering forward.

Natasha stumbled backwards, both out of shock and instinct to get away from him.

“ **What did you say?** ” she choked out, slipping into her first language automatically.

He took a deep breath before a grimace formed on his face. His metal hand came up, pressing to his forehead as his legs buckled and he fell to his knees with a loud thump. A pained sound escaped from his mouth as he squeezed his eyes shut. Suddenly, without warning, they opened again and he looked at her desperately, reaching out with his other hand.

“ **Natalia, I need help.** ”

Natasha realized what was happening all at once. The way that he looked, the use of her real name, the lack of fight in him…he was remembering. She approached him slowly as she would a wounded lion that could still rip her throat out with his teeth. Hitting him in the head with the butt of her gun probably wasn’t her best idea, especially when he was having problems with his mind already. But she didn’t have many options to work with. When he fell down, sprawled unconscious at her feet, she exhaled slowly and tried to figure out what the hell to do now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to hear what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha tries to figure out what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to balance out what's going on in Bucky's head. He's still got the Winter Soldier stuff in there and that will come out even if he's remembering other things. I also wanted to put Natasha's internal conflict in there. I hope I didn't fail miserably.

It wasn’t easy to drag his bulky frame into the second bedroom. Natasha was strong but he was much bigger. When she finally managed to dump him on the bed, she staggered away and pressed her back to the wall. Taking a deep breath, she watched him warily for any movement. Once she was sure that he was still unconscious, she left to secure the house again. After she was certain that he was alone, she dragged a chair into the room and set it down at the side of the bed. Natasha searched him for weapons but knew that there was almost no chance that she found them all. The wrist of his right hand and his ankles were tied to the bed. Natasha carefully bound his metal arm to his side, wrapping rope around it several times at the wrist, elbow, and bicep.

Finally she sat down with a tranquilizer gun in her hand as well as the shotgun across her lap. Reaching out, she brushed his hair away from his temple to look at the spot where she hit him. There was no blood, just a rapidly darkening mark. She knew that it would heal quickly, hoping that she hadn’t done any damaged to his already muddled mind. Her attention went back to his weary appearance. How he managed to get by on his own for six months was almost a miracle. There was only one way that he could have found his way to the safe house and that thought didn’t make her too happy. Though it was almost humorous, thinking of Steve and Sam hunting all over the globe for the man who had been following them the entire time.

Many possibilities went through her mind. He was there to kill her. He was there to bring her to HYDRA. But all of them were countered by the sound of his voice, soft and asking for her help. Natasha knew what he was going through. Perhaps that’s why he came to her instead of leaving when Steve and Sam did. She was forced to sort through years of programming very similar to his. Only he was trying to break through decades of mind-wiping and replacement memories. It would be yet another miracle if he managed to survive it. Something stirred in her chest, tugging at her in a way that wasn’t all that comfortable. She shifted in the chair, blinking in an attempt to chase the thoughts away. It didn’t work.

_She hadn’t meant to see it. Her training ended early that day and she was heading back to her room when she heard the raised voice. Peeking around the corner, she saw one of the other trainers facing off with the Soldier. They were staring each other down, anger reflected in both of their faces. It was not an equal battle of the wills. The Soldier was much taller than his comrade. She barely managed to muffle her gasp when the shorter man slapped the othre. His head turned to the side and she could see the clench of his jaw before he faced the man again. Quiet words were exchanged before the other trainer turned on his heel and walked off in the other direction._

_After a few moments of stillness, in which she could see the Soldier’s hands clenched into fists, he turned to head her way. Knowing that he would hear if she ran, she pressed herself to the wall and hoped that he might walk the other way without noticing her. She did not want him to know that she’d witnessed such a humiliating moment. Her hope was futile. He likely knew that she was there all along. His eyes fell on her as soon as he rounded the corner._

_“ **Comrade,** ” she said, saluting before she dropped her head to keep from looking him in the eyes._

_Despite their easy banter in their training sessions, she was not his equal. He was far better than her in every way and she had to show him respect for that._

_“ **You are too quiet for your own good,** ” the Soldier informed her._

_She lifted her head slowly, a flush filling her cheeks. Despite what just happened, his eyes held the same amused glint that they almost always did when they were near each other. She did not know why but it made her more bold than she would be with any other superior in this building._

_“ **Why did you let him do that? You could have snapped him in two without even thinking.** ” she said bluntly._

_His mouth snapped closed and he swallowed hard, though his blue eyes lost none of their shine._

_“ **That man is your superior, and mine,** ” he reminded her._

_She made a face, not liking that at all. It was one thing for the recruits to be treated in such a manner. They were being trained and it was expected that they would receive punishments for their mistakes. But the Soldier was different. He was a better fighter than any of them, even the other trainers. He deserved more than a humiliating slap._

_“ **To you, he is an ant who deserves nothing more than to be squashed by your boot,** ” she said heatedly, not knowing why she felt so passionate about this._

_As soon as the words left her mouth, she recoiled, expecting to be punished for them. It was no way to speak of a superior and the Soldier knew that. She expected admonishment from him, or perhaps even a slap of her own. She just hoped that he did not use his metal hand. To her surprise, his lips twitched upwards into the shadow of a smile for just a few moments. Then it disappeared as he stepped towards her._

_“ **Perhaps one day, little one,** ” he said quietly._

_She stood still as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head before walking past her swiftly. Her wide eyes followed him, trying to identify the warm feeling spreading through her chest as she watched the Soldier walk away. A small smile formed on her face before she turned to hurry towards her room._

As her eyes opened and the memory faded away, Natasha saw movement and her head lifted. The Soldier was awake, his eyes open and looking straight at her. He made no move to break his binds, just lying still as if waiting for something. They stared for several moments in silence, neither willing to break their gaze. Anger stirred in his eyes, making it clear that he wasn’t pleased at his position.

“How is your head?” Natasha asked finally.

His eyes simply narrowed, a line forming between his furrowed eyebrows. The fact that he hadn’t made an effort to break through his bonds was the only reason that she wasn’t pointing the shotgun straight at his head.

“Sorry for knocking you out. In my defense, you have shot me twice,” she said with a shrug.

The metal hand curled into a fist, making her tense up as her grip on the firearms tightened. His eyes didn’t miss the movement, no matter how slight. Natasha pressed her lips together, settling into silence once more. It hung in the air uncomfortably until he decided to speak.

“ **I shot you once. It wasn’t fatal.** ”

This time, her eyes narrowed at him.

“Twice, neither was fatal but it still hurt like hell. I don’t forget,” Natasha said coolly.

The obvious dig at his memory was unfair but that was what she did. Defeating the other guy with whatever weapons that she had was basic instinct by now. Even if he wasn’t actively trying to kill her, the Winter Soldier was definitely still the other guy.

“ **This other time, were you my mission?** ” he asked, tilting his head to the side slightly.

She didn’t like the way that he made her feel like he was studying her, interrogating her.

“No,” she said simply.

“ **Good. I do not like to think that I have ever missed.** ”

Natasha knew that he was doing the same thing to her, trying to frustrate her. She tugged the fabric of her dress aside to show the silver scar on her shoulder.

“Bad news: you missed,” she informed him.

“ **I was not trying to kill you,** ” he replied, his voice unconcerned but his eyes trained on the scar as if he could not tear them away.

Her fingers twitched towards the triggers of both weapons as she let the sleeve move back into place.

“You still shot me,” Natasha said through gritted teeth.

“ **And you still have a difficult time hiding your emotions, Natalia,** ” he said, the use of the name sending a wave of anger and frustration through her.

This time, she did point the shotgun at his head.

“ **Do not call me that,** ” she snapped, reverting to her natural language without meaning to.

She hated him for making her angry, for forcing her careful façade to crack. Natasha was unfocused and that was how he got the jump on her His movement was quick, his metal arm snapping the ropes with ease before grabbing the shotgun from her hand. She leapt up, moving backwards so quickly that the chair clattered to the ground. He blocked the tranquilizer darts with his arm, sitting up as the other ropes gave into his considerable strength. He was standing before she could run out of the room. Natasha barely had time to make it to the hallway before he had her pressed to the wall. His metal arm was wrapped around her throat, not constricting it but just there as a reminder that he could crush the life out of her easily. Natasha gripped both of her hands around it, trying in vain to pull it away. The Soldier looked over her face before lifting his other hand to pinch at a lock of her darkened hair.

“ **I do not like this. It does not suit you,** ” he said, a frown forming on his face.

Natasha ignored him and took her chance, turning her head to sink her teeth into his right forearm. He grunted, his metal arm squeezing slightly. It was too late. The shift gave her freedom to move a little bit, her knee driving up into his groin. The groan of pain was louder this time, satisfying her as he staggered away. She broke the grip that he had on her throat, pulling out one of the knives that she’d confiscated from him. It was pressed to his throat in an instant and knocked from her hand in the next.

Letting out a frustrated noise, Natasha shoved her palm into his temple at the same spot that she hit before, hoping that hitting the sore area might take him off guard for a few moments. His hand caught her wrist as she tried to run away, squeezing it painfully. She turned around and glared at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction to the pain. He swept her legs from beneath her, pinning her to the ground with little effort. His hands pressed hers to the tiled floor and his hair fell in his face as he glowered down at her.

“James,” Natasha choked out, using her last resort on him.

He froze, staring down at her with wide eyes.

“That is your name,” she continued, taking a deep breath once his grip on her loosened slightly.

“No,” he said, his glare becoming more pronounced.

Natasha continued pressing him, knowing that it was likely her only way not to get killed here.

“Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, a member of the Howling Commandos and the best friend of Steven Rogers since childhood.”

He shook his head as if it could block the words that she was saying.

“You fought with Captain Rogers, also known as Captain America, in World War II. You were his second-in-command until you fell from a train during a mission to capture a HYDRA scientist, Arnim Zola. The Captain, among others, mourned your loss, thinking that you were dead,” Natasha continued.

“Stop it,” he said, his voice slightly louder.

“You were like a brother to Steve. You still are.”

“I said stop it!” he shouted, a metal fist coming down mere centimeters away from her face.

The tile beneath it shattered, a sharp piece cutting into her cheek as she flinched away with a gasp. Natasha took advantage of his breakdown, winding her legs around his torso before flipping them over with ease.

“You are James Buchanan Barnes,” she insisted, pushing him back to the floor with one hand on his chest and the other holding a blade to his throat.

His metal hand was wrapped around her neck once more, squeezing tighter this time.

“Why are you doing this?” he growled.

“Because you want me to help!” Natasha shot back, struggling to take a full breath.

They both froze, staring at each other. His fingers slowly released her throat and she withdrew the knife. Pushing herself off of him, she pressed her back against the wall. Her knees were drawn to her chest and she still gripped the knife in her hand, rubbing at her throat as she inhaled deeply. He sat up slowly, staring at her through the long hair in front of his eyes.

“I’m not him,” he said, his chest heaving as fury flashed in his blue eyes.

Natasha didn’t answer, leaning her head back against the wall.

“I’m hungry,” she decided, her voice slightly hoarse now.

Shaking slightly, she pushed herself to stand up with one hand on the wall. Ignoring all of her instincts to turn her back on him, she walked out of the hallway and into the living room. Natasha did not set down the knife, proceeding into the kitchen. She lied to him, she wasn’t hungry at all. But it gave her an excuse to put space between them. Gathering the ingredients for chicken and rice casserole, she switched on the oven and made it slowly, taking her time. She knew the moment that he walked into the kitchen, feeling his eyes on her. Without looking back at him, she chopped the chicken breasts into smaller pieces with a kitchen knife. The other was lying beside the cutting board.

“When is the last time you ate?” she asked, filling the silence.

There was no answer for several moments.

“I don’t remember,” he admitted.

Natasha nodded, knowing how that was. It was hard to sort things out when this sort of thing was happening. Clint deserved all the credit for keeping her fed and rested while she regained her memories. She didn’t understand why he did it until now. Her hand lifted, touching the small silver arrow around her throat to ensure that it was not damaged in the struggle. She almost wished that she had Hawkeye there for guidance right now. He would know what to do better than she did. But she would just have to do her best.

“Were you following Steve and Sam the whole time?” Natasha asked, washing her hands off before grabbing a block of cheese out of the fridge.

“No. They almost found me in Brussels but I circled around and began following them instead. They led me here one month later,” he answered.

She grated all of the cheddar cheese, knowing that it would easily cover the casserole. The rice was mixed with the chicken next, along with cream of mushroom soup. Pouring it all into a casserole dish and sprinkling the cheese over it, she stuck it in the oven and started a timer.

“Why did you decide to stay here?” she questioned, leaning back against the counter.

He was standing in the entrance of the kitchen, completely still except for a periodic sweep of his eyes over the room

“You were not looking for me,” he finally said.

She didn’t know why he was suddenly speaking English. Maybe it had been her offer of food that finally convinced him. Or maybe he was feeling less like a Soviet soldier. Whatever it was, it made her feel more comfortable for some reason. His voice was still devoid of any accent, Brooklyn or otherwise. That would probably change as his memories returned.

“Steve wanted to find you,” Natasha said.

She let the fact that she didn’t want to find him go unsaid. He got the message clearly and didn’t seem to blame her for it.

“It is more painful, trying to remember him. I can’t see him clearly.”

“But you can see me clearly?” she asked, not feeling entirely comfortable with that.

“Not everything. Just flashes. It still hurts but it is easier,” he replied.

Natasha took a deep breath, realizing that his memories of the Red Room and Department X must have been tampered with less than his memories of Steve and his life before Zola. She took a long drink of the wine, trying to figure out just what she was doing. They were both walking on thin ice here, her more so than him.

“You are bleeding.”

She looked over at him before remembering the cut on her cheek from the broken tile. Lifting her hand, she touched the small cut where blood was leaking out.

“I’ll survive,” Natasha said, reaching under the sink for the first aid kit there.

She pulled out an alcohol swab and a band-aid, prepared to clean and cover the small wound. Before she could do anything, he was beside her and taking both away. She looked up at him with surprise, watching as he deftly unwrapped the swab before lifting it warily. Their eyes met for a moment before she tilted her head to the side, allowing him to clean the cut. There was a slight sting that she barely reacted to, watching his hands closely. Once it was cleaned, he opened the band-aid and carefully pressed the plaster to her cheek and smoothed it out with his right thumb. He stepped away as soon as he was done, allowing her room to breathe again. Natasha gathered the trash, tossing it in a nearby bin before stowing the first aid kit again.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, unsure of how else to respond to what just happened.

“I caused the wound. It was the least that I could do,” he answered.

She glanced at him over her shoulder, biting down on her lower lip.

“I goaded you into it,” Natasha admitted.

“But not into that,” he said, gesturing at her shoulder.

Her hand came to cover the healed wound automatically.

“I did shoot back,” she reminded him.

“Because I was trying to kill you.”

Natasha hesitated, shaking her head before turning away, picking up her glass of wine once more.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

She almost dropped the glass out of surprise, looking back at him with wide eyes. She didn’t even know how to reply to that, just staring at him for several silent moments. His head was ducked but he was looking at her from beneath his lashes, almost looking as ashamed as he did apologetic. If his mood changes continued, Natasha was going to get whiplash.

“The casserole won’t be done for a while,” she said simply before leaving the kitchen.

She needed a moment to regroup, take a breath and sort through what was happening. Sitting down on the couch, she reached over and opened her laptop, clicking on the program that showed his file still waiting to be revealed. Hesitating, she glanced over her shoulder before opening it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha takes a look at the Winter Soldier's file and they have a few conversations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments once again. If you want to give me some feedback, I would like to hear what you think about the flashbacks that Nat is having. Are they good? Bad? Annoying? Tell me what you think.

This file was far more extensive than the one that she got through her contact in Ukraine. Natasha’s eyes flickered over the dim screen, purposefully trying not to see the picture that stood out amongst the words. The image of him in the cryo-freeze chamber would never leave her mind. It was horrible enough to see up close. She didn’t need a reminder of that. A cursory look through the information led her to a list of mp4 files. Hesitantly, Natasha opened the first video. There was no sound, only slightly blurred black and white shapes on the screen.

As they took shape, she felt horror filling her. It was a sort of lab, one that tugged on the edge of her consciousness. Natasha had been in there before, been strapped to the very chair that sat in the center of the room. But it was not her that was the focus of this video. It was him. His metal arm stood out, even on the poor quality of video. He was unclothed from the waist up, straps holding down his arms, legs, and head. A rubber mouth guard was between his teeth, the sight of it reminding Natasha of the sterilized taste.

There were men bustling around him, some holding guns and the others with white lab coats on. One prepared the device as another fitted it to his head. She could almost feel the constricting metal around the crown of her own head, her fingers digging into the couch cushion beneath her. Finally one of them switched it on and he convulsed in the chair. Natasha’s breathing quickened as she watched them wipe his mind and knew from the date stamp on the video that this had been just before their first meeting. His memories were taken away in preparation for new ones, ones involving her. Those would be erased too, in due time. Natasha clicked out of the video, hesitating before scrolling the mouse down to the most recent file.

It was almost seven months before, the day before they messed up HYDRA’s plans and crashed the helicarriers. This time, sound did accompany the video. She plugged in her headphones, lifting one to her ear before letting it play. The quality was flawless, showing her every minute detail as if she was there in the room. It was the Winter Soldier as he was now, shirtless once again. Brock Rumlow, along with other HYDRA muscle, were lined up behind Alexander Pierce as he spoke to the one they called the Asset.

“The man on the bridge,” he said, his voice steady and questioning. “Who was he?”

Pierce hesitated before answering, clearly trying to come up with a lie that would circumvent the parts of the man that were remembering his past.

“You met him this week on another assignment,” he finally answered.

Barnes remained silent for a few moments, glancing around at the men in the room before his gaze rested on Pierce again.

“I knew him,” he said quietly.

Pierce sighed, pulling a stool over to sit down in front of him.

“Your work has been a gift to mankind. You shaped the century.”

Natasha couldn’t disagree with him there, though the gift part was up for debate. After all, she was at the Soldier’s side for years shaping it right along with him.

“I need you to do it one more time. Society is at a tipping point between order and chaos. Tomorrow morning we’re going to give it a push. But, if you don’t do your part, I can’t do mine. And HYDRA can’t give the world the freedom it deserves,” Pierce said, clearly loving the sound of his own voice.

She rolled her eyes, thankful once more that they defeated these idiots.

“But I knew him,” Barnes said, his voice full of broken, defeated emotion.

He looked wary, as if he knew what was coming as soon as he said the words. Natasha’s heart rate picked up speed as soon as Pierce sighed and stood up. She barely heard the conversation between him and the doctor, focused on Barnes as he looked resigned to his fate. He did not fight when they pushed him back into the seat, accepting the mouth guard before leaning back and allowing the restraints to snap into place. Her stomach churned when the final piece surrounded his head, moving in close as electricity crackled in preparation.

His chest was heaving in anticipation and she saw that his right hand was shaking violently. He was afraid. As soon as his screaming started, she knew that she was going to be sick. But Natasha couldn’t tear her eyes away from the screen, memories filling her own mind, his agony a gruesome reminder of the pain that she experienced on several occasions. She shot up and shoved the laptop away, darting out of the room and to the nearest bathroom. Her hands clutched at the toilet bowl as she expelled the meager contents of her stomach. Tears slid down her cheeks. Whether they came from the pain of her own memories or the horror of watching the same thing happen to him, she didn’t know. Leaning back against the wall, she wiped her mouth on a towel and tried to regulate her breathing.

Once she regained control, Natasha quickly brushed her teeth before walking into her bedroom. She stripped out of the dress, putting on a pair of loose black sweatpants and a tighter grey t-shirt. As she walked out into living room, she wrapped her hair into a loose bun at the crown of her head. Barnes was nowhere to be seen, but that wasn’t a surprise. Natasha simply assumed that he was off prowling somewhere. She pushed the coffee table to the side and began stretching in the middle of the room, knowing that keeping herself busy was the only way to keep her mind off of things. She was stretching out her back when he spoke.

“You remember when they did it to you.”

She lifted her head, catching sight of him sitting in an armchair mere feet away from her.

“They were some of the first memories that came back,” Natasha answered, seamlessly transitioning to a backbend before flipping herself over gracefully.

Her shirt rode up in the midst of the movement and his eyes caught sight of her scarred abdomen before she could yank it down. A pained grimace formed on his face as he squeezed his eyes shut. Natasha watched warily until he opened them once more, looking up at her.

“Odessa,” he murmured.

She inhaled deeply, rolling and stretching her shoulders out. A frown formed on his face and he glanced away.

“I waited too long. They were angry with me. I could have shot straight through your head and killed the engineer. I knew that you would force him to crouch behind you. I waited to take the shot. They were ready to wipe my mind as soon as I returned to base.”

“They woke you up when they wanted you to kill Fury,” Natasha realized.

He didn’t answer. There was no need to. All that she could do was wonder how many times he’d been frozen because of her. She had red in her ledger and the parts that included him were dripping the most. There was guilt there, the need to help him. But she couldn’t go into this without warning him of what would happen.

“I want to lay it out clearly for you. This is going to be one of the hardest things you’ve ever been through,” she said, sitting down on the couch.

Natasha curled her legs beneath her, staring straight at him unflinchingly.

“I’ve been through a lot,” he reminded her, sounding doubtful of her words.

“And that will all pale in comparison. First, you’ll remember things in flashes. Then they’ll get a bit clearer, longer. That’s when the dreams will start.”

“I don’t dream,” he cut her off.

She remembered that. It was the same way for her until she started breaking through the programming in her mind.

“You will,” Natasha promised. “That’s when you’ll remember all of the things that you’ve done. Every mission, every kill, every scream, and every single plea for mercy. It will all come to the surface and you will want to make it end.”

If he was affected at all by her words, he didn’t show it at all. She took a deep breath, preparing herself to speak the next words.

“That’s when you’ll need me the most.”

His eyebrows lifted and that was the only reaction that he had to her words.

“You will need someone to keep you grounded, to keep you sane. Someone to keep you from putting a gun to your head and pulling the trigger,” she continued.

“You will do that?” he asked, his tone almost uncertain.

Natasha knew that this was her way out. She could say no and send him on his way, considering he didn’t kill her as soon as the refusal passed her lips. But she wasn’t one for shying away from the hard stuff. In fact, she was usually the one running towards the difficult things at full speed.

“I will,” she nodded.

A ding sounded from the kitchen just as she saw his shoulders relax every so slightly.

“Dinner is ready,” Natasha said, standing up.

* * *

_She waited, perched in her perfect hiding spot in eager anticipation. The rafters of the training room were the perfect chance to achieve her goal of surprising him. Many believed that it was impossible to sneak up on the Winter Soldier. If anyone was going to prove them wrong, it was her. Sure enough, he was perfectly on time to their training session. She could see the tension in his shoulders when he realized that she was late. Only she was not, just taking advantage of her early arrival._

_She climbed down silently, landing lightly on her toes a few meters behind him. Pulling the weapon out of her pocket, she crept up behind him. Before she could even touch him, he whirled around and she ducked the swing of his metal arm. She darted around him, leaping onto his back as she pressed the garrote to his throat. His hands both came up, seizing her arms to throw her off. She read the move before he made it, wrapping her legs around his waist so that he could not dislodge her so easily._

_“ **I got you,** ” she said triumphantly, tightening the thin cord ever so slightly._

_“ **Your pride is getting the best of you, little one. I am not beaten yet,** ” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice._

_She opened her mouth to reply but did not get the chance. He whipped her around so that she was pressed to his chest instead of his back. Then he yanked the garrote from her hands and tossed it away, pushing her back onto the mats. Her ankles were still locked together, keeping him from getting away. She was not going to give up so soon._

_“ **Did you know that I was up there?** ” she asked, tilting her head to the side curiously._

_His eyes narrowed at her and she could sense the rebuke on the tip of his tongue._

_“ **I am practicing my stealth, comrade. Surely you can understand why I would need to know,** ” she said innocently._

_She could see the smile threatening to form on his face and knew that he could see right through her._

_“ **I thought that you were late, as always.** ”_

_A frown formed on her face despite the fact that she knew she’d managed to sneak up on him, no matter that it didn’t last long._

_“ **I am never late,** ” she reminded him. “ **It is you who cannot seem to match my punctuality.** ”_

_This time a smile did form on his face, quickly followed by a barking laugh. He leaned down, skimming his nose over his jaw before burying his face in her long hair._

_“ **Natalia, my little one,** ” he whispered so quietly that she barely heard it._

_Warmth filled her chest the same way that it always did when he spoke the name that she had not yet earned. She did not remind him of this, simply lifting a hand to curl in his dark hair._

_“ **My soldier,** ” she breathed._

_The tension drained from his muscles and he turned his head, pressing his lips to hers in a brief, sweet kiss. Then he was up, pulling her with him._

_“ **In position,** ” he instructed._

_Natalia bit back a retort, following his command without hesitation._

“You did not say when I am going remember you.”

She was torn from the memory at the sound of his voice. Natasha turned her head from where she was sitting at the table. He was leaning against the counter of the kitchen finishing off his third helping of the casserole. Judging from the way that he was eyeing the dish, he was prepared to go back for a fourth.

“What?” she said, needing him to repeat his statement.

“When will I remember everything about you?” he asked before spooning his last bite into his mouth.

Natasha frowned, confused at what he was trying to ask.

“You already remember me,” she said, trying to understand his meaning.

“Flashes, pieces of memories but nothing significant,” Barnes said, looking slightly frustrated by that.

She watched as he crossed to the casserole, spooning out yet another significant portion.

“That will come back along with the rest,” Natasha said, pushing her food around her plate.

She’d eaten very little, unable to get the visual of him screaming in pain on that chair as the men around him watched impassively. It did not make her sick to her stomach any more. No, now it infuriated her. She was doing well at hiding the troubling emotions that were unfurling, dark and twisted, in her chest. Natasha had no desire to join Fury in Europe to hunt down the rest of HYDRA before but now she was almost willing to find her former director just so that she could ensure that the heartless sons of bitches never saw the light of day again.

It was not just because of Barnes, though he was a big part of it. It was the fact that the two of them, and countless others, were treated as less than human by those who stood above them. He was oblivious to her thoughts, apparently sorting through thoughts of his own across the room.

“I cannot tell if it would be better to remember the good things first or last,” he said quietly.

Natasha’s attention was drawn to him once more as she processed what he said.

“You classify me as something good?” she asked, taken aback.

If he was just seeing flashes, then how could he know if she was good? His eyes met hers and he did not speak for several moments, almost looking like he was searching for the answer in her gaze.

“Whenever I see you, it does not feel like the other things. I still get a taste of the emotions involved and they are not miserable in any way,” Barnes said.

Natasha felt guilt prodding at her as she looked away from him. He would not feel the same way when he remembered everything.

“I’m going to bed,” she announced, standing abruptly.

She tossed her plate and cup into the sink before turning to walk out, feeling his confused stare on her the whole time.

* * *

When she woke, Natasha barely reacted the sight of him standing by her window. She knew he was there before she even opened her eyes. Sitting up, she eyed his dark form warily. There was a small amount of light filtering through the window so she knew that it was just before dawn.

“Good morning,” she said, her voice low and rough from sleep.

Tossing the blanket and sheet off of her, she stood up and stretched her cramped muscles out.

“Did you sleep?” Natasha asked, switching on the light of her room.

He didn’t look at her, simply shaking his head.

“It did not feel necessary.”

Somehow, she knew exactly what he was doing. It wasn’t that sleep wasn’t necessary. He feared what would come if he closed his eyes because of her warning.

“Avoiding it will only make you feel worse. Your mind is about to go through a hell that you’ve never imagined and your body will suffer right along with it if you don’t take care of yourself,” she said, rummaging through her closet as she spoke.

He didn’t reply, though she could feel his eyes on her as she pulled out a white loose peasant blouse and a pair of jean shorts. Natasha glanced over at him, realizing that he was wearing something different. He must have come with other clothing, though she didn’t know why he hadn’t been wearing it before. The jeans fit him perfectly, as well as the dark grey Henley shirt and black jacket. He wore the same scuffed black boots and there were leather gloves on both of his hands, though she suspected that was just about symmetry rather than just covering the one metal hand.

“I’m going on a walk,” she said, catching his eyes. “You are free to come, if you like.”

He did not agree or disagree. She didn’t give him the chance to reply, walking into her bathroom to change. Once she was freshened up, her hair braided over her shoulder and a blade carefully hidden on her person, she walked out to find that he was nowhere to be seen. Natasha took a quick look around the house before putting on her sandals and grabbing the keys to the house. If he wanted to come with her, he would. She wasn’t going to force him. Stepping out onto her porch, she saw that the sun was rising over the water in the distance. Just as she was locking up the house, she felt his presence at her side.

“A man passed the house. He was selling these,” Barnes said, holding out what was in his hands.

Natasha glanced over to see that he was holding several bananas.

“I’m surprised you didn’t suspect him as a HYDRA man,” she said, taking one of them.

“I did. That’s why I approached him.”

She fought back a smile, unpeeling the fruit before taking a bite. It was perfectly ripe, as good a breakfast as any.

“I’ve been here for long enough. If HYDRA infiltrated Zanzibar, they would have announced themselves by now,” Natasha said, trotting down the stairs of the porch.

For a few minutes, she allowed him to follow at a short distance, knowing that it was ingrained in him the same way that it was with her. But eventually, it got slightly annoying and she sent a look over her shoulder to tell him just that.

“It would look more natural if you walked beside me,” she informed him.

He looked at her with a slight frown before closing the distance between them. They walked and ate, Barnes matching her leisurely pace with ease. When they finally reached the beach, she slipped her shoes off and wriggled her toes in the soft sand. Glancing over at him, she saw that he was scanning the area for threats. Natasha had already done that twice but she let him have his look.

“Most people enjoy the beach,” she said, walking further onto the white surface.

“That was never my purpose.”

She rolled her eyes, reaching down to pick up a small white shell.

“Your purpose is whatever you want it to be. That’s the best thing about getting out,” Natasha said, turning around to face him.

She tossed the shell in his direction and he caught it with ease, turning his hand over to look at curiously.

“Why did you bring me out here?” Barnes asked, looking up at her.

A crease formed between his eyebrows when he furrowed them questioningly.

“A change of scenery,” she shrugged, walking backwards towards the water. “Keep you out of the shadows for a while.”

“The shadows is where I belong,” he said automatically, as if repeating something that he’d been told many times.

Natasha knew the mantra, having used it for herself before.

“No one belongs in the shadows,” she said, repeating something that Clint had told her.

Turning around to admire the colors that the rising sun cast across the sky, she didn’t see him carefully pocket the shell. The sound of laughter drifted over to them and their heads both turned to find the source. He was tensed up at first at the intrusion but quickly realized that it was just a group of children running down the beach. When they spotted the two, they did not react as he expected. Their faces showed even more delight as they ran straight for them.

“How are you?” a few shouted at once, surrounding them both.

“We’re fine, how are you?” Natasha said, giving them all a soft smile.

He did not answer, simply staring around with the slightest hint of confusion betrayed on his face. One of the little girls held a small flower up, beckoning for Natasha to bend over. She did just that, allowing the child to place it in her hair.

“Asante sana,” she said appreciatively.

“Karibu!” the children chorused before running off once more.

She watched them go with a smile on her face, touching the pink flower in her hair gently. Turning back to look at him, she was surprised to see that his face had softened, most likely unconsciously. As she studied him, she wondered if this was the Bucky that Steve knew. There was the slightest hint of amusement in his eyes that disappeared as soon as he caught her watching him. They stared at each other for several minutes, the soothing sound of waves hitting the shore filling the silence.

“Why did you come to me?” Natasha asked.

“I told you…”

“No, why did you come _to me_?” she repeated, putting emphasis on the last two words. “Why do you trust me of all people to help you with this?”

Barnes didn’t answer right away, looking past her at the water before speaking.

“Because he trusts you,” he said.

Natasha couldn’t help but feel taken aback by that.

“Steve?” she questioned.

He nodded, his eyes returning to her.

“I don’t remember much about him. But I do know that when he decides to trust someone, it means something,” he said, certainty in his voice.

She waited a few moments before sighing.

“But you don’t want me to tell him that you’re here,” Natasha guessed.

“No,” he said quickly. “I’m not ready.”

She nodded, able to sympathize with that. Leaning over, she bumped her right arm against his metal one. He did not shift even slightly, looking down at her with confusion and surprise mingling on his face. As much as she hated that he kept taking her off guard, Natasha liked to think that she did the same to him. It brought a certain balance to whatever was happening here.

“Come on Barnes,” she said, turning to walk down the length of the beach.

This time he did not object to the name, joining her without hesitation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to hear what you think!
> 
> Asante sana - Thank you very much
> 
> Karibu - You're welcome


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha takes drastic measures to help. Bucky has a breakthrough realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I really appreciate you reading and reviewing! Your comments mean the world to me. I really do love them.
> 
> I'm sorry that it took me so long to update. I was out of internet service for a while and then I broke my foot in a bad fall so I was a little distracted. I'm back on track now, I think. I'm pretty much laying around so there's not much to do but write.
> 
> I tried to do a Bucky POV part in here. I hope that I didn't fail miserably. It was harder to get in his head than Nat's, for some reason.

Three days had passed since their conversation on the beach and it was getting no easier for either of them. Barnes was almost always silent. Natasha doubted that he was sleeping at all, judging by the dark circles underneath his eyes that grew more pronounced each day. He wouldn’t talk about anything going on in his head either but, more often than not, he looked like a cornered animal ready to be attacked at any moment. Every little noise made him reach for whatever weapon that was nearest to him. All of this grew frustrating for Natasha, who was not good at communicating herself, much less getting anyone else to do it. On the fourth morning, as she made omelets for them both, she finally decided to broach the topic of the impending expiration of her time away from SHIELD.

“I only have two and a half weeks left.”

His head barely lifted from where he sat at the table. If she had to guess, Natasha would say that he was almost too exhausted to look up at her. Even soldiers with super-serum in their system needed rest. Steve would often crash for an entire day after an extensive mission, something that she’d witnessed it firsthand.

“Until?” Barnes asked shortly, finally looking up at her through a curtain of dark hair.

“Until I go back to work. I’m three and a half weeks into my six-week vacation,” she answered, flipping over the omelet to cook the other side.

He let out a sharp breath that almost sounded like a laugh. If it had been anyone else, Natasha would have thought that he was silently teasing her.

“You can do what you like.”

“I do. I like to work,” she replied lightly, flopping the omelet onto a plate.

She added a fork and picked up a glass of fresh mango juice, walking over to the table. He glanced up at her as she set the food down.

“You can do whatever work that you want. Go off the grid, follow your own orders rather than theirs.”

Natasha scoffed, rolling her eyes as she turned away.

“I don’t need to do that. I do good work with SHIELD,” she replied, cracking two more eggs to make her own omelet.

She heard the scrape of his fork on the plate as he ate. Somehow it was satisfying that he was at least taking care of himself on that front.

“Killing people?” Barnes said, sounding more interested than accusing them.

Natasha hesitated before answering, choosing her words carefully. If she was too reckless in her reply, he would be able to see right through her.

“Saving them.”

She could tell by the hairs that prickled on the back of her neck that he was staring at her. Turning her head, she caught his gaze and held it steadily. There was a blank expression on his face and the tangled emotions in his blue eyes were hard to read. Natasha was good at identifying emotional pressure points in people, even after just one look. It was how she got them talking, especially when they thought that they were the ones using her emotions against her. The Winter Soldier had always been an exception to her talents and James Barnes was even more so.

“That sounds like something he would say,” he said quietly.

That was always how he referred to Steve. He wouldn’t ever use his name. She followed his lead, knowing that it was probably better that way.

“Maybe that’s why we get along,” Natasha responded without hesitation, turning back to flip her omelet over.

He did not speak for a while, eating large bites of his food once more.

“ **You fight well beside him. I saw it in the videos.** ”

Natasha briefly wondered what videos he meant and realized that they must have been from the fight in New York. Even if he hadn’t found them all over YouTube, they were released along with all of the rest of the SHIELD files.

“ **I fought better with you,** ” she said.

It was the truth. When they went on missions separately, they were great in their own ways. When they went together, they were unstoppable, a force that could not be beaten.

“ **We fought together?** ” he finally questioned.

Natasha hesitated, turning around to look at him. His plate was empty and his glass was almost completely drained.

“Are you still hungry?” she asked, clearly trying to avoid his question as she placed the finished omelet on another plate.

She didn’t wait for his answer, walking over to switch out the plates.

“This is yours,” he said with a hint of confusion in his voice.

“I’m not hungry,” Natasha said, setting the empty plate into the sink.

“Natalia,” he said, his voice quiet.

In that one word, using her true name, he managed to say everything that he needed to. She turned around, looking into his eyes once more.

“You’ll remember, James,” she said, taking a chance in using his first name.

There was almost no change in his expression, just as slight softening in his eyes. He watched her closely as she left the kitchen, her heart pounding in her chest. If he hadn’t looked so damn tired, she would have almost felt bad for dosing the mango juice with tranquilizer.

* * *

It was a slow acting dose, making it seem more natural. With any luck, he wouldn’t even notice that she dosed him. When he staggered past her towards the bedrooms about an hour later, Natasha knew that he wouldn’t last much longer. She barely looked up from her magazine as he stumbled into a wall, catching it with his right hand before shaking his head as if to rid himself of the sleepiness.

“You look horrible,” she commented, remaining perfectly casual.

Barnes didn’t even look at her, frowning as he squeezed his eyes shut before opening them again.

“I can’t focus,” he muttered, clearly frustrated.

Natasha sighed, pushing herself up to stand.

“You knew that it would only be a matter of time before your body shut you down,” she said, walking over to him.

He did not fight against her as she slipped her arm around his waist, putting his right arm around her shoulders to steady himself. Walking mostly on his own, he allowed her to lead him back towards his bedroom.

“Don’t want to dream,” Barnes said, his words almost slurring together.

“Dreams can’t hurt you. They’re just in your head,” Natasha assured him.

“Exactly.”

She knew how he felt and almost wished that she could keep him from having to experience whatever his subconscious would force on him. But sleep was more important than avoiding nightmares. They made it to the bedroom and she helped him onto the bed carefully, watching as his head hit the pillow and his eyelids fluttered. His metal hand reached up, closing around her wrist loosely as she turned away. His eyes were open, clear for just a few moments as he stared up at her.

“Don’t,” he breathed.

Natasha hesitated before carefully sinking onto the mattress next to him. Warily, she lifted her hand to brush through his long hair. Her fingers caught on a few tangles and she sighed, carefully unwinding them.

“I don’t know whether to give you a haircut or a comb,” she said softly.

He didn’t reply, letting his eyes close as he released her arm.

“We’ll talk about it when you wake up,” Natasha decided.

As he fell into unconsciousness, she watched the frown lines in his face smooth out. His entire body relaxed from its rigid composure and his breathing grew shallow. She let out a relieved sigh, easing herself off of the bed to walk out of the room. With any luck, this would help them both, him more than her. The tranquilizer wouldn’t last long. His system would burn through it with ease. She just hoped that his body’s natural impulses would take over and keep him asleep.

* * *

Five hours later, Natasha had cleaned the entire house from top to bottom to keep her hands busy. There were no messages in her secure inbox and, other than a few texts from Steve telling her where they were when they arrived in a new country, nothing on her phone. Guilt panged in her chest every time she remembered that Steve was still looking for the Winter Soldier all over the place when she knew his exact whereabouts. This time, the thoughts did not have long to settle before she heard movement from the second bedroom. Natasha hadn’t taken two steps into the hallway before she heard a loud snap and a crash.

Her instincts kicked in and she pulled a gun out of her jeans, walking down the hallway silently as she heard more rustling and the sound of something shattering. Darting into the room with the firearm raised, she barely managed to sidestep a broken lamp that was on the ground. There was a chunk of wood missing from the headboard of the bed that wouldn’t be easy to fix. Neither would the dent in the wall where it hit. He was sitting in the middle of the bed, his chest heaving and his hair hanging in front of his face.

“Barnes?” Natasha said warily.

She knew better than to approach him, not knowing what state of mind he was in. She could see that his eyes were slightly glazed over, as if he was not fully there. His metal hand twitched slightly, her only warning before he launched from the bed with an angry roar. She ducked the swing of his fist, darting to the side when his leg came up to connect with her ribs.

“I’m not going to hurt you!” she said through gritted teeth, spinning around him before leaping onto his back.

Her arm wrapped around his throat but he acted quickly, breaking her grip with ease and tossing her onto the bed. As soon as her back hit the mattress, she rolled off before his hand could wrap around her throat. Natasha launched to her feet once more, ducking yet another blow before knocking him back onto the bed with a kick to his abdomen. He grunted just as she lunged forward, clambering over him to straddle his thighs, pushing him backwards with her hands on his chest.

“James!”

The struggle ended suddenly, his body going still as soon as she shouted his name at him. Natasha did not move from her perch atop him, breathing as heavily as he was. Horror filled his eyes as the glazed look cleared and he realized what he’d done. She knew exactly what was going through his mind. When she was breaking through the twisted programming in her head, she’d woken up to find herself holding a blade to Clint’s throat far too many times.

“It’s okay,” she said quietly, pushing her hair out of her face. “We’re okay.”

“I could have hurt you,” he said in a strangled voice, his hands fisted at his sides and his eyes refusing to meet hers.

Natasha huffed out a sigh, leaning down to press her forehead against his chest. The sound of his heart beating quickly beneath her helped her as she counted the beats in her head to calm herself down. She had always been a physical person, using touch to orient herself with other people. James was the same, even when they were just teacher and student. When their relationship grew into something much more intimate, touch started to mean something very different. It was that thought that lingered in her head as she let herself rise and fall with his breaths.

“You’ll have to do better than that if you want to get rid of me,” she finally said.

When he did not reply, she pushed herself up to sit, her legs still straddling his thighs. If he wanted to, he could easily toss her off. He didn’t even try.

“Listen to me, I would not have taken this on if I couldn’t handle it. I knew what would happen if you went to sleep and I’m not running away now that it got a little rough. I’ve faced much scarier things than this. I’m not even fazed so you can stop with the self-blame and work on getting yourself better so this isn’t all for nothing.”

James stared back at her, looking as though he was searching for the proper response. Much to her surprise, his hands lifted very slowly and, one at a time, settled on the sides of her lower thighs just above her knees. He touched the flesh one to her leg first, waiting for her reaction before doing the same with the metal one. She felt the chill of it through her jeans, even though the climate around them was quite warm. Reaching up, she cupped his face in her hands and stroked her thumbs over his rough jaw.

“I was cold. Even when they woke me up, I couldn’t quite get rid of the chill. I still can’t, sometimes,” he admitted, looking up into her eyes. “I feel the ice on my skin and try to scrape it off. But I can’t, because I can’t see it.”

Natasha felt relieved that he was actually talking to her instead of silently brooding and following her around like a passive aggressive shadow.

“That will go away. As time passes, the sensation will become less vivid. It’ll be fuzzy at worst, nonexistent at best.”

He sighed, leaning his head back as he closed his eyes for a few moments.

“And until then? I can’t keep doing this,” James said, clearly frustrated by his actions even though he was not able to control himself at the time.

She considered it for a few moments, her eyes traveling over his torso and resting on his metal arm. Reaching down, she touched it carefully, running her hand up towards the red star that still marked the silver surface.

“We keep you warm,” Natasha decided, looking into his eyes once more.

* * *

The water of the shower was almost scalding, but James preferred it that way. It helped him think and he couldn’t stand the idea of turning it to freezing cold instead. As he washed his body and hair, he tried to balance out his thoughts. Everything was very different now. No one was giving him orders, except for Natalia but he’d known that she had a tendency to be bossy. Her commands were ones that he was more willing to follow. They consisted of washing dishes and helping her with cooking, not killing people. The last few days had shown him a more simple way of living, one that he wasn’t altogether adverse to.

Then the nightmares came, dreams of blood covering him from head to toe, a crowd of faceless victims staring at him. They hated him, their burning gazes and hateful words cutting into him quicker than any knife. They attacked him and he woke just before a blade plunged into his heart, attacking the one person in the world who was only trying to help. He could tell that Natalia thought that she was bad at helping him but she was the complete opposite. It seemed like she always knew the right thing to say, even when he did not know what he needed to hear.

She did not tiptoe around the difficult subjects, which was a relief to him. He didn’t have to explain himself to her, except when she demanded to know why he was there. Ever since he arrived, his actions had been his own and completely unquestioned. He suspected that she drugged him to get him to sleep but that was a logical move on her part. She was right. His body was going to override his will to stay awake eventually. Natalia just made it happen faster. She called him James and it didn’t bother him for some reason.

Somehow, the name on her lips sounded good and natural. He wanted to hear it again, even taking to referring to himself as the name that was his, as if he’d earned it now. When the last of the soap was rinsed from his body, he reached out and cut the water off, stepping out of the shower. Mere moments later, a sharp knock sounded on the bedroom door. He frowned with confusion, wrapping a towel around his waist before moving out into the bedroom to open it. She was standing there, her eyes fixed on his face steadily. Then her hand extended towards him, holding a small navy bag with a zipper on the top.

“Shaving kit,” she said simply.

James took it, glancing between her and the bag. It wasn’t all that clear to him, why she was doing this. The hair on his face was getting rather irritating but he did not mention anything about it to her.

“The beard and hair combination is making you look like a hobo. We’re spiffing you up Barnes,” Natalia said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

She turned around before he could reply, her dark hair whirling around as she made her way down the hall.

“Don’t put a shirt on!” she called over her shoulder, missing the small smirk on his face as an innuendo automatically rose to his lips.

It took James by surprise, making him frown at the feeling of being another person just for a few seconds. Closing the door to the bathroom, he opened the shaving kit and began pulling everything out. Thirty minutes later, he stepped outside wearing low-slung jeans and sporting a freshly shaven face. Natalia gestured to the chair that sat in the middle of the porch.

“Sit,” she instructed.

“Will anyone see?” he said, knowing that the civilians of the small village nearby should not see his prosthetic arm.

“We’re the only ones around for miles right now. No one is coming by,” she said confidently, clipping a small hand towel around his shoulders.

She picked up a comb off of a nearby table, touching it to his damp hair.

“I’m going to be gentle,” Natalia assured him when he tensed up.

True to her word, she weaved it through his dark hair smoothly, undoing tangles with minimal tugging on his scalp. Once it was all combed out, she set it down and picked up a pair of styling scissors. He eyed her warily, almost ready to escape at the sight of the sharp implement.

“Trim or cut?” she asked, holding them up innocently.

“What?” James questioned, narrowing his eyes at the instrument.

Natalia reached out, tugging lightly on his hair.

“Do you want me to take off just a little bit or chop it all?”

He stared at her, looking almost perplexed at the thought of want and how he could choose for himself. James thought of the museum, of the face that was his and yet so much different. James Buchanan Barnes. A different man, a different life. He smiled like nothing in the world bothered him. The Winter Soldier knew better. But out here, on this island with this woman, he almost felt content in a way that confused him. Bucky Barnes did not exist any longer, that much was certain. But the Winter Soldier was gone too. Perhaps he could be a cross between them. Maybe he could be James.

“Chop it,” he said, thinking of the short hair that his other self had worn.

Natalia nodded once, knowing exactly what he meant. The snipping sound of the scissors filled the air and he tried not to tense up. When they got too close to his throat, he fought the urge to shove her away. More and more hair fell to the ground to be swept away later. By the time it was all gone, he felt strangely exposed and vulnerable. Natalia ran her hands through the short locks, making the hair stick up in every direction as they dried in the soft breeze coming off of the ocean in the distance.

“There, looks much better,” she said approvingly.

“Like him?” he said, catching her wrist with his right hand.

He looked up into her eyes, waiting to hear what she would say, not knowing if she even understood. Natalia considered it for a moment before shaking her head.

“He didn’t have this scar,” she said, brushing her thumb over a silvery line on his temple. “Or this.”

Her fingertips barely skimmed over the metal of his left arm before she pulled her hand away.

“You aren’t Bucky unless you want to be. You aren’t the Winter Soldier unless you want to be. Right here and now, you’re whoever you want to be.”

It was almost unsettling, how she managed to read him so well. He’d read the files on the Black Widow but none of them did her justice. They were technical, listing the facts about her. None of them could accurately describe the way it felt to be in her presence. The way that he felt comforted and challenged all at once. It was all her own, a true Natalia Romanova specialty. It was when she used such talent to manipulate the people around her that she was truly dangerous, a beautiful spider using her best traits to ensnare her prey.

“Is that okay?” Natalia asked, tearing him out of his thoughts.

He found himself nodding slowly, reaching up to run his hand through his hair.

“James,” he decided.

A smile formed on her face, one that he almost found himself reciprocating. But he did not smile, not yet.

“Nice to meet you James,” Natalia responded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! I know that you probably don't think that seeing comments helps all that much but I promise that they do. Your feedback always helps to inspire me and seeing that someone took time out of their day to respond to my writing never fails to make me smile.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James remembers more, Natasha tries to convince him to come with her to SHIELD, and a tracked phone call gets them into trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, once again, to everyone who is reading and commenting. You're all amazing!

Natasha wasn’t surprised to see James sitting on her bed when she came out of the steam filled bathroom, nothing but a towel wrapped around her. His hands were clasped and his head was ducked, an old habit from when his hair formed a curtain around his face. Judging by the frown on his face, he wasn’t sure if he liked his shorter locks or not.

“You’ll get used to it,” she said, running her hand through his thick brown hair as she passed him.

It was softer than it had been when it was long. She liked it.

“I used to spend time on it. Before.”

Natasha glanced at him over her shoulder to see him watching her with a strange expression on his face, as if he was far away. Looking at her, but not really seeing her. It was good. He was remembering.

“Before?” she said, wanting to pull more out of him.

His eyes snapped to her, focusing for several moments before he nodded once.

“Before the war, I think.”

She considered it for a moment before her lips twitched up into a smile.

“I’ve seen pictures. You were very put together. It suited you, though I’m more of a fan of the modern day look,” Natasha said, gesturing to the dark blue t-shirt and ripped jeans that he was wearing. He didn’t have shoes on, just a pair of grey socks.

“So am I. This clothing is, by far, much more comfortable.”

She smiled wider, turning to walk back into the bathroom so that she could put on clothes. When she came out again, James was still sitting in the same spot.

“What do you remember from before the war?” she asked.

Clint did this with her, asking for updates, wanting to know what she’d remembered. It helped to talk out loud, both in dealing with stuff and in remembering new information.

“My parents died when I was young. After that, it was just me and my sister.”

Natasha walked over to the bed, sitting down next to him as she ran a comb through her wet hair.

“Rebecca,” she said quietly.

There was a brief mention of the younger Barnes sibling in his file. Her married name was Proctor. She died in the late nineties, leaving behind children and grandchildren. Natasha wondered what they would think if they knew that James was still alive. He didn’t say anything at first, reaching out to take the comb away from her before she could move to the other side of her hair. When she looked back at him with a questioning glance, he simply gestured to the floor in front of him. She sank down to sit on the ground without complaint, a feeling of uncertainty stirring in her chest.

“I used to do this with her hair, in the orphanage,” he said, running the comb through Natasha’s damp hair gingerly.

 _You did it for me as well, in Russia._ The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t say them. He had to remember on his own. She never knew why he insisted on combing her hair but it made sense now. He didn’t even know why he wanted to before, that it reminded him of a sister that he didn’t remember.

“I’m sure that you were a good big brother,” Natasha said quietly, crossing her legs and leaning back against his knees.

James simply hummed in reply, focusing on smoothing out the tangles in her hair without hurting her or accidentally pulling out any strands. She smiled slightly at the strange visual that they likely provided at the moment. The feared Winter Soldier combing out the Black Widow’s hair. Two of the greatest assassins in the world and they were basically playing house at the moment, complete with peaceful domesticity.

“I don’t like this color of your hair,” James said, interrupting her amused thoughts.

“So you’ve said,” Natasha replied as he set aside the comb.

She didn’t move, allowing his hands to run through her darkened hair that was drying and becoming slightly curly. The feeling of his metal hand was strange against her scalp, but not completely uncomfortable. It felt good, causing her eyes to close slightly and her expression to soften.

“It is one of the first things I noticed about you. They warned me before I entered the training room. Watch out for the red one. She is advanced and spirited, two things that could cause problems.”

Natasha let out a short laugh to cover the disconcerting feeling that made her hands clench into fists. It was easier to mention the Red Room and Department X to people who had no idea what it was like. If James was remembering parts of that, it was only a matter of time before he remembered everything.

“I didn’t even think that you existed until they brought you in. No one did. We all thought that you were a ghost story, a frightening tale to scare all of the little potential widows so that we would stay in line. Everyone else was terrified when you walked into that room. It was the mask they had you wearing, I think,” she said, leaning her head back as he carefully began braiding her hair.

She didn’t mind, marveling at the deftness of his fingers, prosthetic and real.

“I saw past the mask. I saw your eyes. They weren’t as cold as I always heard. **The Soldier has eyes as cold as ice** ,” Natasha said, the Russian coming out before she knew it. “That’s what they told us. It wasn’t true. Your eyes were tortured, sad, terrifying. But they held warmth too. That’s when I decided not to be afraid of you.”

“You weren’t afraid of me,” he said, almost scoffing because of his doubt.

“You didn’t want me to be,” she replied.

James didn’t reply to that, remaining silent as he braided her hair down to the ends. She handed a hair band to him over her shoulder, allowing him to secure it. His hands drifted down the sides of her neck to her shoulders, brushing over the places that her sleeveless top left bare. When his thumb touched the puckered scar on her left shoulder, Natasha shuddered and tilted her head back, looking up at him. With a sudden burst of inspiration, and the need to distract him from the place where he shot her, she stood up and turned around, holding her hand out.

“Spar with me,” she said, holding her hand out.

His eyebrow lifted in response, his eyes flickering between her hand and her face.

“Really?” he asked, dragging the word out with uncertainty lacing each syllable.

“Yeah, it’ll be fun,” Natasha said, smiling at him. “Just like old times.”

James placed his hand in hers and she pulled him up to stand, turning to march out of the room. She didn’t release his hand and he didn’t pull away, allowing her to tug him down the hallway. As soon as they reached the living room, she began pushing aside the furniture and he stepped in to help. One semi-gentle shove with his metal arm to the armchair sent it skidding across the floor and into the wall. Natasha looked at him over her shoulder, barely fighting back laughter at the almost ashamed look on his face.

“You should really know your own strength by now,” she said, walking over to peek behind the chair.

Sure enough, there was a small dent in the wall and plaster littered the ground where it had broken off.

“I do, when I’m fighting,” James said quietly.

Natasha glanced around to see him staring down at his metal hand, clenching and unclenching it.

“I don’t remember many times that I haven’t used it to hurt someone…or kill them.”

She moved towards him, reaching out to touch his arm. Her fingertips brushed over the metal carefully, feeling its cool surface beneath them.

“You will remember. Just give it time. And in the meantime, remember that you just used it to braid my hair,” she reminded him.

A slow smile formed on her face as she looked into his eyes.

“Now stop stalling and fight with me,” she said, giving him a small shove before backing away.

The ghost of a smile flickered over his lips and made her heart stutter for a moment. James hadn’t smiled yet but she was sure that it would happen soon. If Natasha could make Fury smile, she could make anyone smile.

* * *

Natasha and James both sat in the middle of the living room floor, nursing their superficial wounds as they looked around at the damage that they’d done. He had a cut on his forehead and a rapidly darkening bruise on his cheek. She sported a small laceration on her cheek and a bloody lip. The house had fared much worse by the time their sparring session ended. The television was cracked from the center out. The coffee table was broken in two. The back of the chair was bent backwards far more than it should have been. The wall had quite a few more dents in it now.

“I think we’re outgrowing this house,” Natasha said, looking around with a small hint of amusement on her face.

James snorted, not quite a laugh but no derision in it either.

“Where are we going to go?” he said, dabbing a tissue at his bleeding lip.

She glanced over at him warily.

“You probably won’t like it,” she said, giving him fair warning.

His eyes flickered over to her, narrowing slightly.

“I’m not going to SHIELD,” said James in a low voice.

“They can help you,” she said, wiping the blood from her nose. “They have access to neurologists and therapists.”

He pushed himself to his feet, walking away from her.

“I don’t trust SHIELD,” he said shortly, moving towards the hallway.

“I hate to tell you this, but you came to a SHIELD agent for help,” Natasha reminded him, standing up to follow him.

James paused in place before turning to face her.

“Do you trust them?”

She stopped short, staring at him without speaking.

“Well?” he said, pushing her to answer.

“I don’t even trust myself,” Natasha said.

James gave her a confused look, tilting his head to the side slightly.

“I was working with SHIELD for years and I didn’t see HYDRA pulling the strings. I got comfortable and sloppy. I let my guard down and I didn’t listen to my instincts. I can’t trust myself, much less anyone or anything else.”

There it was, the truth that had been stirring in her ever since she learned of HYDRA’s existence.

“Do you trust him? The Captain?”

Natasha scoffed, shaking her head.

“Everyone trusts him,” she said simply.

It was true. If someone didn’t trust Steve, they couldn’t be trusted.

“And his friend? The one with the wings?” James questioned.

“Sam? Of course I do. He helped us when everyone we knew was hunting us,” Natasha said, wondering what he was doing.

He reached out, touching the arrow that sat at the hollow of her throat.

“What about the archer? Clint Barton? He is the one who brought you into SHIELD. He was your handler and your partner. Do you trust him?”

She batted his hand away on instinct, her fingers hovering over the necklace. Natasha didn’t need to ask him how he knew that. It was obvious that he’d read her file as well.

“With my life,” Natasha said in a hushed voice.

James took a few steps towards her, closing the distance between them.

“What about me?”

She didn’t answer, looking up at him with wide eyes. His face was mere inches from hers and she could feel his right hand closing around her hip. His other hand pressed over the small of her back and Natasha allowed him to pull her in closer.

“James,” she said quietly, putting her hand on his chest not to stop him, but to anchor herself in this moment.

She could feel the hard lines of muscle beneath her hand and reminded herself of how strong he was. His head ducked down slightly, his eyes staring deeply into hers.

“Natalia,” he breathed out, as if her name came naturally to his tongue.

His eyes flickered down to her lips and back up to her eyes, making his intention clear and wondering if she was going to stop him. Natasha made no move to do such a thing. Suddenly the thick silence between them was broken by a shrill noise coming from her bedroom. They stared at each other for another moment before she unwound herself from his arms. Walking into her room, she picked up her phone from the bedside table.

“Romanoff,” she said simply.

“Nat,” the voice on the other end sighed.

She knew that it had to be him already. No one else called her on this phone.

“Steve,” Natasha announced, knowing that James was right behind her.

“We’re in Venezuela.”

She walked into the bathroom, peering in the mirror to look over her wounds.

“How is it?” she asked.

“Hot,” Steve said simply, sounding exhausted. “You haven’t heard anything about him, right?”

Natasha felt guilt once more, looking towards the doorway to see that James was leaning against it with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Nope, nothing,” she answered, recognizing the shake of his head.

To be fair, Steve was looking for Bucky. And the man who stood a few feet away from her bore little resemblance to the carefree sergeant from the footage that she’d seen. It was a simple technicality, one that didn’t make her feel any better.

“I don’t know what to do here,” Steve said, almost sounding defeated.

She hated the fact that she contributed to that at all.

“Take a break, Steve. He won’t let you find him until he’s ready,” Natasha said, staring into James’ eyes.

“I just don’t want him to be out there on his own, Nat. You have to understand that. I mean, you went through all of this. Could you have done it on your own?” he asked, driving the guilt deeper into her.

“No,” she answered honestly. “But you can’t force him to let you help. He has to come and ask for it.”

That much she knew for sure, considering that James had come to her to ask for help.

“I don’t know if I can wait that long,” Steve admitted.

“You may have to,” Natasha countered, finally tearing her gaze away from those blue eyes.

* * *

She needed a walk. James had the powers of observance to know that she wanted it alone. Natasha strolled along the beach, trying to stamp down the feeling that she was betraying one of her own friends. As soon as Steve found out, she knew that he would likely be furious. Just after he said that he trusted her, she was harboring his resurfaced best friend behind his back. It didn’t matter that James didn’t want him to know. In the end, it mattered that she decided to deceive Steve, especially when he asked point blank whether she’d heard anything. It was a hard pill to swallow, and Natasha had swallowed some pretty difficult pills in her lifetime.

By the time she got back to the house, a curious smell greeted her when she walked through the door. Following it to the kitchen, her eyebrows flew up when she saw James standing over the stove and cooking something. When he turned his head to look at her, a slightly wary expression on his face.

“I can make pasta. I remembered that,” he said, stirring the sauce in the pan. “I learned in Brooklyn.”

Natasha moved forward, peeking into the pan to see that it wasn’t the jar of tomato sauce that she had in the cabinet but rather a sauce made out of fresh tomatoes.

“It looks delicious,” she said, giving him an encouraging smile.

James looked relieved, nodding his head before he turned back to focus on making the meal.

“I’ll make garlic bread,” Natasha decided, pulling the ingredients out.

“Sounds good to me,” he replied, nodding in response.

She almost thought that she might have seen a smile tug at the corners of his lips but she wasn’t certain. Regardless, Natasha felt a little bit lighter knowing that she was doing the right thing by him, at least.

* * *

Natasha knew the moment that the power was cut, despite the fact that her room was entirely dark. It was only a matter of time before the back up generator on the house kicked in, but she didn’t have that kind of time. She was out of bed and arming herself when the door slammed open and she turned to see James standing there.

“They’re outside,” he said in a low voice.

Natasha nodded once, loading her two handguns before following him down the hallway. He had a gun in one hand and a small knife in the other.

“How did this happen?” James hissed.

She only had to think about it for a moment.

“They must have traced Steve’s call to me. They couldn’t find me any other way,” Natasha decided.

She wondered who was there. HYDRA? Or just someone else who wanted her dead or alive to torture. The moment that the window in the living room broke, they were ready. They stood side-by-side with their backs to the wall of the hallway, ready for anyone who came that way. Footsteps creaked on the floorboards of the house, making her roll her eyes as she held up her guns in preparation. Sure enough, a man rounded the corner only moments later. James’ bullet caught him between the eyes. Natasha shot the next one who decided to brave the hallway. Glancing at James, she nodded for him to go first.

It was easy to hide behind his bulk, waiting for him to take shots at a few more guys before darting out from behind him. She dodged one man’s shots before running at him, twisting her legs around his torso. She had him on the ground quickly, firing two rounds into his kneecaps to incapacitate him. James was moving onto the kitchen before they could say a word. Natasha grabbed a semi-automatic from one of the dead men and ran into the entryway. Two more kill shots and she was leaning against the wall, wiping blood from her mouth where one of them landed a lucky hit.

“I’ll check the perimeter,” James said, stalking past her with renewed tension in his shoulders.

She didn’t argue, walking back towards the living room. The remaining man was groaning with pain, trying to move towards the window. Natasha yanked him back, throwing him to the ground with the gun pointed between his eyes.

“Who do you work for?”

The man glared up at her, a furious look in his eyes as well as pain.

“Talk now or I will shoot your foot,” Natasha threatened.

He spit out a few words of Russian that insulted her rather personally and she sighed heavily, knowing exactly who was behind this. James was walking in just as she shot him in the right foot. The man shouted out in pain, clutching at his injured extremity.

“ **Who do you work for** ,” she repeated impatiently.

“ **We were sent for the Widow** ,” the man finally choked out, fear in his eyes as he looked up at James. “ **They said that you would be with the Soldier**.”

Natasha glanced up at James, her eyes flickering over the blood that splattered his face. He nodded once and she lifted the gun, shooting the man in the head.

“Still think we can stay here?” she asked, raising her eyebrow at him.

As she moved to pass, he grabbed her arm and stopped her.

“I’m not going to SHIELD,” James said, making it clear that he still wasn’t going along with that.

“Neither am I,” Natasha fired back. “If you want me to trust you, you’ll have to do the same for me.”

The confusion on his face was enough to give her a sense of triumph as she walked back to her bedroom to pack. Bye bye Zanzibar. She picked up her phone as she pulled out a suitcase and set it on her bed, dialing a number that she really didn’t want to call.

“Hello Stark.”

* * *

They stood side-by-side on the tarmac, waiting for the Stark plane to reach them.

“ **The smart thing to do would be to separate. They were after us both and they won’t be the only ones** ,” James said, clutching his duffel bag tightly in his right hand.

Natasha looked over him, watching out of the corner of her eye as Stark’s private plane approached. He was wearing a hooded leather jacket and a black baseball cap.

“ **It’s a good thing we’re not very smart** ,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips.

James stared at her for several moments just before a hesitant smile broke out on his face and a guffaw escaped from his lips. He looked as surprised as she felt at his reaction but it did not stop him from grinning as he shook his head.

“ **A good thing** ,” he agreed.

Natasha grinned wider, watching as the steps were lowered so that they could climb onto the plane.

“Come on, James,” she said, hooking her arm through his to pull him towards the aircraft. “I’m taking you back to New York City.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to hear what you think!
> 
> I am taking prompts for buckynat, or just any messages at all, on my tumblr if you want to come over and check it out. My username is lady-annabeth-stark.


End file.
